


Buffalo Hunter

by PandaFalls



Category: NA AU, The House at Panda Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 19:43:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5883175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaFalls/pseuds/PandaFalls





	Buffalo Hunter

Storytime after a hunt was a warm, revered tradition in the tribe. After the kill was skinned and taken care of to be stored away, everyone would gather around a warm fire at sunset for dinner and stories. As usual Violet had dressed up for the social occasion with beads in his hair, bracelets, and necklaces. Paint made from white mineral powder had been drawn from the top of the two-spirit’s forehead to the tip of his nose and three parallel lines drawn over the left side of his chest, right on top of his heart. He wore pants of animal skin over his legs, a colorful loincloth over this, and nothing on his feet. In his usual fashion, Barnaby had opted for as little clothing as possible and wore the same pants and loincloth combination along with the beads and feathers that Violet had weaved into his hair and beard over time.

As everyone settled in, Barnaby took an empty patch of grass behind Violet and looked up at the man that stood before the fire. This man had been nicknamed Big Echo for his ability to mimic the sounds of the animals and people in all of his tales, and he certainly did not disappoint now. Barnaby was able to pick up a word here and there, but the sounds and gestures filled in the rest of the gaps alright, especially since he’d been around for most of these events this time. It had been his first time hunting with the men of the tribe, you see. He listened carefully, occasionally glancing to Violet as he waited for his part of the story to come up.

There. Big Echo gestured to Barnaby, using terms like “white man” and “fire hair” to refer to him, as well as tossing in his name every so often. Violet cast a curious glance back at Barnaby and then leaned in towards the story teller, listening intently as the story’s events unfolded. Barnaby had been given his weapons. The other men had chortled and pointed as the ginger-haired man tested and inspected the objects. When he dropped a spear while riding his horse, nobody was surprised. But by the time he reached the field, he didn’t seem to be struggling anymore. He had a handle on what he’d been given and he met the challenge of the hunt with ferocity.

He killed a buffalo.

Violet’s head snapped around to look back at his twin soul, his bright blue gaze suddenly intensely focused. He kept listening to the story as blue eyes held green, the corner of the two-spirit’s mouth slowly curling into a smile. Soon he was turning, lifting from his seat on his knees to crawl, back arching and bending like a mountain lion’s graceful body as he made the turn and began to slink towards the man sitting a few feet behind him. His movements were slow. The more Big Echo described the skill of the white man’s bow, the powerful stab of his spear, the expertise of his riding skills, the closer Violet crawled towards the man, like a sleek predator towards prey. Soon his hands were crawling up Barnaby’s chest, sliding over his shoulders to rest his arms there while his legs moved to straddle the man’s thighs. There was nothing accidental about the way his hair all cascaded over one slender shoulder, and the way his back made a languid inward arch as he settled in to his new listening spot, his face only inches from that of the grinning ginger.

“Buffalo hunter,” Violet murmured in his soft accent, his tone impressed and laced with quiet praise.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Barnaby replied with a low chuckle, already pleased with where this was going. Already he could feel other eyes on them, mostly of the jealous females that suddenly wanted a piece of the buffalo hunter as well, but none of that mattered right now. Those heated blue eyes were all that Barnaby could see, their focused stare flooding his mind and causing his heartbeat to pick up a little more.

The story ended. Violet leaned forward, pressing his lips firmly to Barnaby’s mouth, much to the pleasure of the briefly whooping crowd. A well-deserved reward for a successful hunter! Everyone left the two alone there on the grass to kiss and enjoy each other’s clothed closeness while the stories continued. Eventually the activity simmered down into separate groups socializing on the grass, occasionally lifting up a song to ride the fire’s smoke to the heavens. Children began to fall asleep on one another, wives moved to their husbands to embrace them and praise honorable efforts, and the two-spirit and his twin soul went off to the tent to finish what they’d started by the fire.

Violet was very attentive that night. He made Barnaby lay down on his back and took good care of him, kissing the spots that made the man groan and nibbling the spots that made him growl. Soft lips cradled heated desire between them and partook in a slow dance with the tongue’s help, those blue eyes holding green in their gaze all the while. As the families and others retired to bed, the passion of the tribe’s most noteworthy lovers could be heard from the two-spirit’s tent. Tonight was one of those nights where mounting his lover felt even more natural than mounting a horse. His hips could easily ride the roll of Barnaby’s movements, the boy’s back arching and concaving as fluidly as a stream. He cherished the pinch and shudder of his lover’s expression and watched every detail for as long as he could, gradually speeding up until a course of ecstasy threw his head back, tossing his dark hair back and out of his face as his eyes squeezed shut and a cry escaped his lips.

“Beloved…” The tired word whispered its way into the skin of Barnaby’s chest as he held his lover in his arms, soft smiles on both of their faces as they drifted away to walk in the dream world together for the night.


End file.
